


More than anarchy

by Luxi_Storyteller



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 18:56:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10725210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luxi_Storyteller/pseuds/Luxi_Storyteller
Summary: Raven wakes her older sister Clarke up in the dark of night. Just a simple plea to leave with her and their younger brother Aden. Flee into the green forest surrounding the Ark on a quest to find something more than the Rules of the Promise. Lexa, the natural leader, gives Clarke this moment to unite the heathens. At the brink of something great or something terrible, Clarke is left to decide what to do with the man at the tree awaiting his fate, with twelve eyes watching and waiting for rules and consequences to right their loss. Was it worth Clarke breaking all the rules to create a life worth living with Lexa?





	1. Sometimes the End is the Beginning

****

I'm not the only one gouging a hole into something with a blade to keep my hand busy. The bark broke loose easily, but the dried wood gives little with my side to side motion. Hairs tickle my face hanging wild to block my face I'm about to push it back but it helps hide my refusal to meet their eyes. Doesn’t stop everyone from staring at me from scattered, yet united, seats around the fire. I force the blade into the wood so it stands. 

Just enough of a fall breeze sends a chill over me, prickling my exposed arms. My eyes wander for a moment from the flames that move under the squirrel meat browning. The smashed grass reminds me of all the nights we've used this spot to share our stories. The treadless boots and tattered sneakers surround the stone circled fire. I can't meet their eyes, afraid of the new spark lit not by fire but by power.

I count the twelve pairs of shoes, little Tris’s colorful sneakers sparkle. I trace up the torn jeans to settle on how her hands hold tightly around the drawn six inch blade. Silver steel shaking silently. I wish she didn't have to pretend to be brave. 

Shining orbs catch my eye. Beyond the glow of the light, the flames barely reflect back at me from the tree we tied him too. His eyes flashing in the moonless night like a feral animal. 

He too watches me, waits for me. The eyes that don’t move send a deeper chill to my core. He knows what everyone else knows, and I don’t want to jump on that bandwagon. 

I should be grieving for Aden. The depth from his brown eyes forever shut and missing from this circle. I can't seem to do anything. I can't with everyone's eyes cutting into me. Waiting for my words to decide on how to right our loss. The only loss since we created this… well whatever this is.

My loss. My Aden. My responsibility. 

Lexa pokes at the charred wood, sending up ash and embers with the smoke. The roasting flesh pops, as the words bursts from my lips, “Maybe Golding messed it up when he said that kids without adults would turn savage.” Lexa will understand… I hope. 

Standing, I try to see what we built. Looking over heads into the moonlit night where the temporary tents and leaning huts stood. It has to be something. Turning back to Lexa, I try to rationalize, “I mean, I want to believe that what we've done here is proof that we are just as able to make something. We can do better than others.”

I start to meet the eyes around the fire since Lexa doesn't look up. Octavia’s dark hair twists between her hands into a long braid. Her head nods to me in agreement. Her best friend Lincoln snuggles closer to Tris, pulling the ten year old in tightly under arm. The three of them redefining family for the rest of us. 

T gets up to her feet moving to the outside of the circle. Ready to defend any of us, transferring the machete to her dominant hand. Finding rest just behind Bob, they join hands momentarily as Bob reaches up to her shoulder. Their relationship in itself makes me know that there’s more. More words fall quietly, “Maybe the world falling apart around us made it easier for us to be who we were meant to be.”

Lexa swallows roughly pulling my eyes back to the ruffled hair shaking enough in acknowledgment.  _ Say something! _

However, this is not a conversation; just silence that people are waiting for me to fill. I don’t want to be the leader in a world at war between green and grey. 

I turn from Lexa to Rae, blaming her for this moment. Blonde hair twisted into a knotted mess atop her head. The black t-shirt claiming to be made to sparkle, shimmers in the flam. I growl at her, “Your quest, Hero. Wanna take over?”

Anger rising because I had warned her.  _ Your fault. I told you.  _ That chalk line, I knew our brother would become in her adventure is now too much for her to handle. Rae’s guilt rolls off of her like waves crashing against me. Her ability to grieve something for me to envy, as I take over what she started. 

My throat clears the bile that has burned since Rae cradled Aden for the first time. His stillness at her touch, firing every nerve until my legs quaked and gave way. But he’s dead and we’re survivors still. And I’m sick of being a survivor. 

Casting my gaze to each of those that are now my lives, I begin. “We’ve survived the fall of the country, or even the world. We’ve lived through the end of greyness.”

Lexa looks up, and I sure that I’m the only one to hear the words, “Maybe Mars did too.” Of course, Lexa wants to throw something useless in now.

My core steadies. The shaking in my knees seems to dissipate. Aden’s death can't be for nothing. It can't go unnoticed, so we have to adapt. We have to be better. There will be more just like  _ him. _

I lock eyes with  _ him,  _ just like that the first time. A simple stare down to see who would submit. He doesn't smile this time. He doesn't hold up his hands peacefully for we both know he is only capable of pain. There are more like him.

“No, we aren't the only survivors but we’ve come this far. We are a bunch of heathens,” I pause chewing on this reality. The word the elders used for those that refuse to follow the Rules of Promise. Breaking from civilization to become our own people.

My confidence falters. The patch in my chest leaking again. Wondering if I'm good enough. If this will be good enough for them. “Maybe we are missing some things like deodorant,” there’s a few snickers from the twins who desperately were in need of some deodorant. But we aren't to murdering or fighting with each other. That's I guess ‘cause until today we weren't more than a bunch of people in the same spot.”

“Coexisting,” Lexa offers.

“Yeah,” I take the word and run with it. Hoping it will come full circle and make sense, I try to explain. “Just coexisting leaves us alone. Makes us weak.”

Weston pounds his own blade into the wood he's sitting on, and I remember mine. Eyes flicking from the waiting erect blade and back to our enemy. I could end this now. One flick of my wrist like Lexa fault me. 

I don't though. 

I stay on track to be better. Better than the belt and broken promises. I like the feel of being better as it spreads over me. I try better on my tongue. It's smooth and rich. It feels so good that I want to share.

“Coexisting means that we gotta be better. Better than ghosts that haunt the grey.” 

Lexa adds to the conversation, “Death brings out something in people. The fear gripping at their throats like today is their last day too.” I think of Mom. 

“But today ain’t our last day, and tomorrow won't be either.” I point to the eyes at the tree. “We’ve got a common enemy. My mom always said that a common enemy brings people together. She even moved us to the Ark because of it.”

I take my blade from its resting place. Twisting the handle in one hand. “It's easy to just end him. It wouldn't take much, but I believe in natural consequences for choices. No, natural consequence now.” 

Lincoln booms, baraton waves reverberating off the trees into my core,  “So what’s the consequence for Aden’s death?”

“Yeah, Aden was kind. He didn’t deserve to die because of old ways,” Mac, or maybe Tegan calls from the other side of the fire. 

“Justice for kind Aden,” Tris begins to chant, pulling from Lincoln to stand. 

The others join in the chant. Each coming to their feet. Flesh glowing as what was once seperate becomes one. Tied together by my brother. Kind Aden. 

“We gotta have rules if you want consequences,” Lexa states bringing the chant to an eerie halt. Whispers and a few growls at the truth of Lexa’s statement. Each remembering the rules of who we use to be. 

I feel the sting across my back. Scarred flesh reopened with the rememory of each strike to embed the rules deep within my flesh. A permanent reminder of where I’d come from. Rae’s arms wrapped around herself tell me she remembers too.  

Chocolate eyes lift. Tracks of loss etched into her dirt covered cheeks. Her words telling me she’s too lost in her abyss to transform yet and handing me the reins, “Clarke, what are the rules?”

Wood crackling fills the quiet that comes over us. A silence that I know is mine to break. All I have is truth left. No grand ideas. Just where I came from, and where I know I don't want to go back. 

“I only know six rules.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten Keep Telling Yourself That. This has just been eatting at me for a month or two so I put it on paper. I would love some comments. I really miss you all. -Best wishes, Luxi


	2. Rule 1: Don't Go Where Ghost's Roam

The butt of the tick waggles from where it had fixed itself just between Aden’s neck and shoulder. We got to get it off. There's nothing else to it. Should be easy, but it ain't. That's the way of life it seems. Even things that should be easy never are.

Rae is still sitting at the edge of the trees like a tick on Aden isn't a big deal. Like the fever isn't worse than the flu. Like we didn't just up and leave the Ark to venture into the wilderness that has taken over the rest of the world.

“This is like… our threshold,” Rae states with her eyes fixed on the black concrete wrinkled with age. Greenery acts as an acne across the crumbling surface, blistering and protruding randomly. Dirt crust made most of the green sign positioned along the side of the once highway unreadable, but the number meant miles.

Fifteen miles to a place with a name. A name meant graves and other ghoulish horrors, but at least now we may have a destination.

Rae's stuff is still next to the bag she had slept in. I'm not even sure how she had managed to grab the sleeping bags but not a pair of boots. Just a dingy pair of red chucks with toes covered in dirt and grass stains.

Blood hotter than the sun burning my skin, I grab one of the shoes. With a grunt it flies from my hand and hits her in the shoulder. I don't throw it like a kid, all off angle and short. It smacks, with a thud and knocks her off balance. Not the way to solve a problem but for a moment I feel vindicated.

Three days of walking as fast as possible through trees in silence. I had let my little sister drag me from my bed to leave probably the only civilized place left in the world and all for her stupid hero’s journey. Aden and I brought along like her sidekicks.

“Your quest!” I yell even though she could hear me if I just whispered. I yell even though I may wake a ghost or give a location to our position. “You made us leave so you could be a hero and you didn't just drag me but Aden too?”

Rae doesn't look at me as she picks up the shoe and twists it in her hand. She doesn't say anything and the anger rises in my throat. The vile words fall, an acid aimed to burn her sun bleached hair. “You selfish brat, have only ever cared about you. Never concerned what this would mean for anyone else.” I point to Aden even though she's not looking at me. “He's probably going to die of fever but you'll chalk that down as another part of your journey right? Just another test or trial for you to overcome on your path to greatness?!”

“Peppermint oil.”

My hands come up to cover my face. Hot tears making muddy stains on my cheeks, but I can't break now. There's no breaking down allowed when you're the oldest. With a deep exhale I ask the sky, “Why?” Why couldn't we just be like everyone else and follow the rules?

She’s our mother's daughter though so she answers me like it's a question to her. “Peppermint oil will cause the tick to fall off and we won't have to touch him much. The oil is a deterrent for ticks, and often they will die from the exposure. Remember when Mom-”

“I know what peppermint oil does,” I spit at her. Pushing up to stand. To be bigger, even though she's catching up to me. “You didn't pack any though.”

“I didn't plan on leaving...” her trailing sentence is so quiet I almost don't hear her, “not with anyone at least.”

I move closer to her position. Rae’s chest rising and falling a little harsher. A little thicker with each breath.

“Why?” I ask the question this time hoping for clarity. Mom always said it was the most important question, but the fire in her eyes shone almost feral in the glinting moon light just bright enough to follow a gut chosen path through trees and grass had made me not ask then.

Now though, she had led us to the edge of a long forgotten highway. Running us towards the world our mother had run us away from.

“They made the match. Your match.” Pieces fall into place as I try to calculate how much longer I had until the day my match would be set. Not many days left until I turned seventeen. “Decided your fate... and mine would be next.” There’s the selfish sister I knew. Her eyes turn to where I stand over her. Begging me to understand as she adds, “I couldn't do it without you.”

“We couldn't leave Aden,” I finish. I watch the way his eyes scan the floor hearing us but not consciously in our plane of existence at the moment.

I look back through the trees we’d come. A small part of me wonders who my match was. There weren't many of us that would turn age this year. Mom never would have approved of matching.

Rae turns back to the road. It's like she sees something, and I wonder if she remembers this highway like I do. If she remembers Mom's favorite song blaring as we drove towards a road less traveled. “There's gotta be more than ghosts. More than the Ark plan for us: plowing fields and breeding.”

Birds call to one another from the safety of their perches. Everything held a freedom to roam and move without fears of viruses, ghosts, and Rules of Promise. Broken and quietly, Rae tells me what I already know, “Mom didn't raise no followers.”

Mom believed in that same hero stuff that has Rae trying to run around world of ghosts and communes. She taught us both about quests and abysses to help us when the outside world collapsed into diseased chaos. No, she didn’t raise followers, but Mom did move us to the Ark.

“There's gotta be more,” she says again. My eyes find her through the haze of memories. The smile on mom's face when she moved us to the tiny house in the Ark, so proud of a world without vaccinations that turned kids into silent geniuses.

I turn from her chocolate eyes. I turn to Aden.

His untamed curls hanging shaggy and knotted around his head. Our presence seems to go unnoticed to him. I know he hears everything; he's processing it all silently, unable or willing to share his position on our situation.

“We've gotta move, ya know?”

Yes, I know. _They’ll follow us to the road at least._

After that there's no telling if they'll actually stop. There's no telling if they'll keep going. With _them_ there's really no telling what they’ll do. They've proven that they'll survive at all costs.

I move back to where our stuff lays. Picking up the bag, I swat at the dust. We already have one tick. Where there's one, there's always more. I don't need fever, especially since we're about to cross the line of quarantine. Break the first rule.

"Are you worried about the ghosts?” There's a hitch in Rae’s voice. Just enough of a crack to tell me she's as scared as I am. I look back at where she sits. She still holding that stupid shoe.

The shoe makes me angry again. We should've planned before leaving. She didn't plan this. We have nothing because she hadn't let me in on this plan. I could've at least helped remember a pair of boots.

I decide to help her out now though by pegging her with another shoe. This time it thunks just before her, and kicks up the loose dirt all over her. "Get your shoes on.”

The blood on her socks tells me she knows she was dumb about her shoes, but smart enough not to complain. Maybe we’ll find some boots wherever we go.

Looking at the flattened grass around us, I realize my we've been leaving quite the trail. If we're going to continue there's no more options but to follow the grey. We have to follow the grey to the graves and hope that after four years ghosts will be the only thing we crossed.

****

Every step stretches up my shins. The left is worse than the right, my skin pulling away from the bone. I try stepping differently, but it doesn’t work. No matter the pace or what area of the road I walk on, it hurts.

Rae jumped a few feet before me, a small squeak coming from her. My breath caught at her sudden movement. I search in vain for what has her on edge only to see the lizard bolt towards the fissure in pavement, disappearing between the Encelia daisies into the shade.

My hand held against my lips to stifle the snickers that I can’t seem to hold back. The snorts scratching the back of my throat as Rae’s shoulder rise and fall in a pathetic attempt to calm herself over the stupid lizard.

Two more steps and a buzz catches my ear. Softly the buzzing grows to gentle rattle. Searching, I finally see the rattler in the shallow brush not far from where I stand. Slowly, I take a step back, then another. Watching the snake the whole time in case it chooses to lunge. Each step adds distance between Rae and me, and I pray she hears it so she doesn’t backtrack.

My next steps sends me off balance. Pain sears up my foot and leg as it twists under me. Side stepping only makes the fire in my ankle worse, but I try to correct and not fall. The ground giving out under my weight and crumbling. Concrete losing another several inches to the green.

“Damn it!” The words break before I can attempt to hold them. Side stepping, I check my words to just grumbles.

My eyes burn as I fight to keep them open, focusing on the blonde haze several yards in front of me. When she comes into focus, I see her still standing where I’d left her. The rattler resting between us with unblinking eyes trained on me. Rae’s checking the trees, so I look to make sure I haven’t angered the snake. The rattler resting between us with unblinking eyes trained on me.

I hold still, hoping for the pain to ease and allow the reptile time to decide that I am not a threat, like Mom had taught me. My moment of stillness interrupted by a body bumping into my back. My body pushed forward by Aden’s momentum.

His momentary contact with my body has him reeling away. Arms flailing around as he spins chaotically. Uncoordinated circles with arms stretched out and head up. Mouth open wide letting out screeches of discontent, which leaves an echo in the quiet.

I stare watching the snake. Unable to handle watching Aden try to sooth himself. It doesn’t move towards us. Choose a path quick path towards another gapping hole farther to the side of the road.

I can't hear anything over Aden’s distress and it takes time that I can’t even measure to steady himself. Once he’s still, his eyes return to the ground and waits. His eyes locked on the hot pitch below his cracked boots.

Rae's hand finds my arm. She's pulling me across the road. The side that ran north instead of south was a little smoother but she doesn't stop guiding me. Every step hurts but not bad enough that I can’t move with her.

My ears echo with her paniked breath. I barely have a chance to check that Aden is following us. His large strides breaking into an awkward run. Each boot hitting the ground with a crunch that is far louder than Rae and I make.

Trees offer cover us a welcomed cover. The canopy promises protection from what may be coming from the otherside of the highway

If they’re following us, then they’ll have to cross the grey and also break rule one, I remind myself. Using the rules to sooth the instinct to run faster and deeper. Hoping their fear is greater than ours.

Moving and stumbling over sticks loudly. Our feet too heavyo not leave a trail. We push forward quickly until Rae trips. The momentum of her body brings me down thanks to the grip she still has on my arm. Arms too tangled to break our fall well. The ground scrapes away the skin from my forearm. Rocks in bed in my palm as I try to save my face.  

Rae isn’t unscathed either. Her faded black shirt now further marred with a decent sized hole near her navel and her knee bleeding from where the material had long ago disintegrated. A finger finds the hole in her shirt. Poking a little, she looks to me with an extended lower lip. “My favorite shirt.”

I can’t stop my eye roll. The rag had tattered sleeves and a several holes already. It had survived a long life and really should’ve been put to rest years ago. “Didn’t you bring others?”

“Yes.”

I don’t tell her to put on a different one. If I’m being honest, I’m surprised it’s not tucked away in her bag. Rae was never careful with anything but that shirt. She would wash it by hand, refusing to send it with the laundry. Unable to part with it for longer than a day or two.

Not sure where it comes from, I say, “You’re her size.”

She looks down at the worn material. Fingering the hole like she had desecrated her Sunday best. “I’m going to be bigger than she was.” Her lower lip tucks between her teeth.

I nod, because we all were surpassing Mom’s height quickly. I give her something, even though I’m still angry with her. “She’d be proud of you. Making us leave. Protecting Aden.”

Rae’s quiet for a minute. There’s a force pressing against me from her direction. An energy coming from her without words. Its takes a moment to categorize the twisting in my gut from it. The chaotic energy forcing into my space and striking me

“Will they kill us if they find us?”

Copper runs over my tongue, the metallic taste enough to make me ease up on the lip I’m biting. I don’t know what they’ll do if they chose to come after us. No one had left since we were younger, and no one had come back. A few had tried to come when the flu spread, but they never made it past the tower. Picked off with one or two pops from a rifle.

Chewing over the possible death, a comfort settles my breathing. A realization that they wouldn’t come after us to kill us. It would be a waste of effort, and potentially risk infection. The comfort is short lived though.

I should keep the reality to myself. Reality is worse and I can’t hold it. Unable to shoulder that burden alone, I tell her the truth. “If they come for us, then they’ll take us back. The punishment will make death a mercy as a warning to all others trying to escape the match.”

Her eyes fall to the ground. She doesn’t suggest that we go back. They’ll know what we already know. We are not one of them.

“Grey.”

My head snaps to Aden. His words so few and in between, but one word holds a thousand meanings. He’s facing the direction we’d fallen. Eyes locked on something of importance. I have to get to my feet to follow his stare past the trees. Putting weight on my ankle causes sparks of fire to run up my leg, I have to know what he sees though.

Barely a glint of red through the trees. A structure in the too near distance almost swallowed by green. The space of grey still battling with the weeds as Earth attempts to reclaim its surface.

Rae’s breath catches as her body brushes against mine. I haven't seen a brick building since we were kids. Aden too young that I feel this must be a rememory for him. A memory passed to him from someone else without them realizing that he was listening, or even present.

I don’t touch him. A few simple words, has a smiling playing in the corners of his eyes. “You found the grey.”

“Grey,” he echos.

A space that had become fireside ghost stories at The Ark was suddenly a destination not far away. For some reason this brought more comfort than knowledge that we were not being hunted for our deaths, because even if they had followed us this far, they wouldn’t walk into the grey.

I take Rae’s calloused hand in mine.  I’m no hero, so i’m not doing this alone. I'm also no follower, so I’m not letting my little sister lead me into danger.

With slower steps, we move with caution. One more glance to Rae, I look to see if she’s with me. A slight tightening around my fingers answers my unspoken questions. We’re doing this together.

*****

I don't actually believe in ghosts, but I keep looking for them. Life around the town is not gone. That's probably the hardest thing to process. Squirrels run from ground to tree. A dog lingers at a steady pace along the other side of the road. Nature moving on as green breaks away at the grey.

“I expected it to be more creepy and less…” Rae starts but doesn’t finish.

The greyish rot of sun beaten and water worn boards, fixed to every surface that would hold our kind. _A little less like a war zone_ , my mind finishes what Rae had stopped. We pause at the deserted diner covered in wood panels. Nails not completely sunk in, and several bent into the rotting window covers.

“Were they keeping the flu out or in?” Rae's question hangs for a moment. I chew over the possible answers. Running through scenarios if this was my diner and people were dying faster than could be reported.

Mom would've boarded the outside to keep the inside safe. She would've known the boards would be easier force inward if fixed inside. The outside though had too many unfinished screws. Too many places of poor hammering, that I question if this is a tomb for some one or many.

I turn from the crumbling building. Looking over the various signs that hung over the sidewalk where we stood. Diner. Arizona Visitors Center. Another diner.

I straighten, the pressure between my shoulders giving in; a soft pop of my spine. With a deep breath, I tell Rae, “We’ve been here before.”

She looks at me first with brows scrunched in the middle. When I just look back at her, she begins to search for what I know. Head swiveling away from the smallest building leaning towards the road. Old architecture not holding up to years of elemental attack without helping human hands. Just another diner, but Mom’s rage at the food forever etched into my mind.

“Last one,” I tell her. She doesn’t share my memory, so I remember for her. “Last meal before The Ark. We stopped there. Sat in a booth. Mom ordered a steak that they cooked wrong and -”

“My hotdog was cold.” The tension fades in her face, the corners of her eyes showing the smile before it got to her mouth. She frowns then, looking back at me. “My last hot dog and they ruined it. It was burnt on the outside but a meatsicle on the inside.”

My chest releases, not a real laugh, just a huff of air. “I told you to get the pancakes.”

Her slow turn back to me with squinted eyes should’ve warned me she was going to hit me. Even that makes me snort though. “You were always telling me what to do,” she says swatting me again.

Holding up my arms, I try to call a truce. Reminding her that, “I was older and smarter. You should listen to me more.”

A huff of her own, and she’s turning back the reality of our currently placement. It takes a moment of stillness before she asks, “So Yoda, what are we supposed to do now in a town of crummy diners?”

She really doesn’t remember being here.

I answer her by walking straight towards the diner we had eaten our last American supper. Two sets of footsteps tell me both her and Aden are following me. Walking past the rusted bike rack and across the street to another awkwardly built space. The army green cube with no window. Pointing to the sign above the metal door, I read aloud slowly for her, “Sur-pl-us.”

When I turn back, her pursed lips and sunken shoulders tell me I win. There’s a glint in her eyes then, and she walk to the door. With a single fist she pounds against the metal. “Metal door,” she states.

“So.”

“Did you turn into Wolverine suddenly and can cut through metal with your razor sharp claws?”

We stare at each other until she breaks my glare with another thunk against the metal. “Or did Mom forget to tell me you fell from the sky to save us after your real family blew up on Krypton?”

Hinges groan as I’m about to laugh. The door swinging outward just slightly and I’m frozen in place. The black muzzle exiting from behind the door and pressing against Rae’s temple.

Birds chirp.

    Squirrels scatter.

       Green wins grey.

Everything moves.

Except, Rae stops.  

                       Stops blinking.

                       Stops speaking.

                      Stops breathing.

And I wait for her to stop being.

Time moves no faster or slower, and I know it will take less than a second. Life changes in less than seconds but I hold on hoping that this second will slow to give me more time with my annoying little sister that set out to be a hero and will never get the chance because I led her straight to bullet prepared to transition her as a fuel for the green to grown stronger and fossilize the grey days of human existence to allow for new wars of species.

“I don’t know where you came from, but this is not where you belong,” the voice growls from behind the metal shield. Clear definite words from a stranger. A survivor that also knows the value of surplus and isolation.

 _Say something!_ I’m too lost in the seconds ticking by. Unable to promise to leave. Not even capable of begging for Rae’s life. Honestly being matched doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

 


End file.
